


On the Lone and Level

by poisontaster



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-11
Updated: 2006-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: That. That's Elizabeth Weir.
Relationships: Ronon Dex/Elizabeth Weir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	On the Lone and Level

**Author's Note:**

> Original 2006 notes: 15minuteficlets hung me out to dry this week, so I foraged for my own prompt. Hooray for random word generators! This is for mona1347 who lamented that there isn't any good Ronon/Weir out there. I'm hoping she ~~is blinded~~ loves me enough to think this qualifies. Thanks and groveling to the incandescent inlovewithnight, who I do not appreciate nearly enough.

He thinks that nothing should surprise him anymore, certainly not these new Atlanteans. He knows that he's still a young man, but he feels old. Jaded in expectation and weathered and beaten to the consistency of leather by a lifetime in seven years and more planets than he can put name or memory to.

He thinks that it should all be nothing but commonplaces now, and yet maybe that _is_ the thought of a young man, because here he is, finding most unpleasantly that he is completely capable of being surprised.

He tries to find a comparison for it. He likes analogy, the relationships between ideas and things to show the order that infiltrates it all, even at its most chaotic. Here. This is what it is:

Imagine that McKay has frantically been searching the known universe for one of these ZPMs. This isn't at all hard, because it's the truth. But then, imagine further that right there, in the gate room, there is a pedestal, and on that pedestal is one of the very ZPMs in question. And everyone walks past it. And even the floor is unworn in a careful circle around it. Because it's _there_ , obvious as the nose on your face, and yet somehow, it remains _unseen_. Possibly exactly _because_ everything thinks it's so unattainable.

That. That's Elizabeth Weir.

The analogy is not perfect, of course, because the various team members _do_ interact with her, but he thinks it's apt in the sense that it's not really Elizabeth Weir they see or talk to. It's not a person, a woman, in their minds.

Some of this is, of course, her own fault. She wears her invisibility like a protective shell. From things she and others have said, he thinks this is common to women from her world, particularly women in power. Symbolism is important to the Earth folk; you have only to look at their clothing, their equipment, everything stamped with the home they have nearly abandoned.

He thinks it might be different if they saw her in the context of the personal. If they saw her less the leader of the Atlantean expedition, Dr. Weir and more Elizabeth. It might be different if they saw her as he does, relaxed and without walls. If they saw her laugh, full and throaty, head thrown back. If they saw her half-lidded and on her way to sleep, curved and soft and sated. If they knew how she looks when he puts his fingertips against that slim wrist with iron bones and feels her heart as it pulses.

But the truth is, he doesn't want them to see these things, just as McKay is loathe to the idea of sharing his power source with the less deserving. He wants her to himself, he wants this things to be only his, only theirs and private. He is rediscovering the idea of _private_ , secrets held only between one, or two and he finds it sweet to the taste. Nearly as sweet as Elizabeth, when there is no one and nothing but them.

Let them keep their blindness. He will keep his sense of surprise.


End file.
